


Departure

by historiareiss



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 06:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11617956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historiareiss/pseuds/historiareiss
Summary: Off-screen bit from 7x02 / "My heart is here, within these walls, with you."





	Departure

Sansa retired quietly and earlier than usual that night. She went to her chambers like a ghost haunting the halls of Winterfell, without making a sound, every step as light as a feather.  
Jon wouldn't have been able to tell she left the hall if it hadn't been for the soft rustle of her dress' hem brushing on the floor.  
Even in the Great Hall full of lords, ladies and wildlings, even when the wind howled so fiercely against the castle's battlements, he could still hear her.  
The sound of her displeasure rang as loud as a trumpet in his ears, despite the fact that she wouldn't voice it openly anymore.

She had tried, to be sure, but did he listen?

So now she resorted to silence; a cold silence that would freeze Jon's heart a thousand times worse than the long winter they were all bracing themselves for.

"Sansa." He muttered, gently, closing the door behind his back.

Sansa raised her pensive gaze from the big crackling fire in the hearth, like she didn't expect him to visit her in her chambers that night,  
not after the way he had invalidated her counsel in front of all the lords in the Great Hall and decided to head south with or without her approval.

"Are the lords still here?" She asked, with no regard whatsoever for the apologetic look on his face. Her copper hair seemed to catch the warm light radiating from the fire.  
"I sent them on their way. And I leave at dawn too. I came to say goodbye to you before I pay my respects to Father and Lady Catelyn."

Sansa nodded imperceptibly, as if to say that she understood, but still didn't accept his decision. Even though the King in the North had made her his regent for the time being,  
even though she knew he was as wise a ruler as any could be, there was still something amiss about him heading south to meet the famed Daenerys Targaryen.

"You can face them without shame now. You protected the North as well as any Stark. And in your absence, I will do my duty too."

"It's not them I am afraid to face, Sansa."

Sansa averted her eyes from his and cracked a vaguely amused smile. "If half the tales I've heard about the Dragon Queen are true, she must be a remarkable woman, even without her dragons.  
Anyone in your place would be the least intimidated."

Jon snorted in impatience and restlessness, and within a few steps, crossed the entire chamber's length, to stand now in front of his half-sister.  
He leaned over Sansa's seat in front of the hearth, placing a hand on each of the armrests.  
"I am called to a duty that's greater than I will ever be. Daenerys Targaryen and her dragons are the only hope we have to defeat the Others. I am doing this to protect our home, _and you_."

His face was so close that Sansa could feel his warm breath on her cheek. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze, let alone hold it.  
She felt as silly as the little girl she had been so long ago, in King's Landing. What had gotten into her now?  
Jon was behaving like a true king, then what was she trying to reproach him for?

"I know." She replied, meekly.

"Then why does it feel like you hate me for it?" Jon's question came out in a flustered strained sigh that made Sansa shift in her seat. She finally looked at him in the eye, though.  
He truly didn't know. He knew nothing of the ugly and selfish feeling that had taken hold of her heart.

"You don't even think this is a trap to lure me south anymore. You know it is the right thing to do and that's what I am going to do. Then _why_?"

In his exasperation, Jon raised his hands from the armrests and finally let her free to stand up as well.

"Are you going to forge an alliance with her?" Sansa stood up to him, still keeping her composure. A true lady's armor.

"You bloody well hope so." He snapped, turning away from her in what seemed despair mixed with rage.

"By what means?"

"What?" Jon's gaze, veiled with rage, fell now on Sansa's face again. The puzzled gleam of his eyes all the more led her to believe that he was clueless.  
He probably didn't even think of it as a possibility.

"The best means I can think of to form an alliance is marriage." She observed shrewdly.

Jon didn't have a reply to that. He simply didn't. He couldn't even say he had thought of marrying anyone ever since Ygritte died. He only had questions.  
One of them being, why Sansa cared who he was going to marry.

"Why would a young girl with three dragons want to marry me?"

Sansa shook her head at his ignorance. He was a wise and well-loved ruler, but still a child when it came to the matters of the heart.  
"Because you are the only king in Westeros, for one. She needs to unite all seven the kingdoms under her rule before she can call herself Queen. Until then she's just another pretender.  
Besides, her Essosi army and her dragons would perish here, and she knows it. The only way for Daenerys to win the North is through a binding agreement."

Jon took in all her words one by one. She was right, as always. Sansa was always right, even when she undermined his authority in front of his lords with her clever defiance.  
_And how he loved her for that_.

"Even if that were true," he conceded, "why do you care?"

Sansa fell silent again. She could feel Jon's eyes on her face, ready to grasp even the least hint in her features. She wouldn't give herself away so easily though. In King's Landing,  
she had also learned the subtle art of lying, and by the best teachers she could possibly ask for; Littlefinger and Cersei Lannister.

"If you marry her, you are going to give away the North to her as a wedding gift. Is that what you had in mind when they crowned you?  
What will your lords say when they see their king bending the knee in front of the Mad King's daughter?"

Jon studied her face carefully. She could almost sway him, her voice like a sweet melody that could lull him to weakness.

"You have nothing to fear. You will always be the Lady of Winterfell. Nobody can take this away from you, no matter what happens. Winterfell is not up for trade."

Sansa nodded, without uttering a word. What else could she tell him at this point? What could she tell him without giving herself away?

"And neither am I. My heart is here, within these walls, _with you_. As soon as I have ensured Daenerys' support to our cause, I will come back to you."   
  
Jon pulled her closer and embraced her tightly. Sansa surrendered to the embrace, although her heart wouldn't find rest.   
After all, Daenerys Targaryen was the most beautiful woman in all the world, and Jon was still only a boy.

"May the gods protect you, brother."

He leaned in to kiss her forehead, before turning away from the fire, and setting off for the crypts.


End file.
